


blow your mind

by pumpkinless



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Established Relationship, First Time, Keith and Shiro Like To Take Care Of Each Other, M/M, Seasons 1&2 Era, Semi-Public Sex, Shiro (Voltron) Has a Large Cock, Size Queen Keith (Voltron), Virgin Keith (Voltron), not for much longer tho, this sounds really horny and it is but also it's very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 22:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19282864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinless/pseuds/pumpkinless
Summary: Two months into their relationship, Keith and Shiro still haven't gotten to spend a lot of quality time alone together. Keith fixes this late one night."Why are you trying to talk me out of sucking your dick?" he demands, and then he kisses Shiro again for good measure. "I want it so bad, Shiro, you don't understand.""I understand more than you think," Shiro says with a laugh. His hands fall to Keith's ass again, an easy touch that Keith loves more than he can explain. "I just—if it's too overwhelming or, or, if I'm too big—""You think I can't handle your dick?"





	blow your mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sugarcubeshiro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarcubeshiro/gifts).



> my initial estimate of 2k words was so, so incredibly wrong
> 
> thank you thank you THANK YOU to my pals [hannah](https://twitter.com/eternalheatstrk) and [blue](https://twitter.com/sugarcubeshiro) for the editing work on this, it was rough there for a while but i finally got it to a place where i'm happy with it!
> 
> enjoy!!

“Shiro . . . .”

Keith breathes the name out into the hot, heavy silence. Shiro sighs in response, still kissing Keith’s throat, one hand holding tightly to his hip and the other laced into his hair, not pulling but holding. Shiro’s nails scratch gently over Keith’s head like a massage, a reward for Keith kneeling in his lap, panting while Shiro wrecks him with just a mouth and five fingers. He managed to get Shiro’s shirt off a few minutes ago, but Shiro hasn’t let Keith go far enough away to take off his own, which is sad and annoying because Keith would love to plaster himself against Shiro, skin to skin.

They’ve never gone that far before.

Keith says Shiro’s name again, stronger and more sure, but all it gets him is Shiro’s mouth sucking what will surely become a lasting mark over the place where Keith’s pulse beats.

A shaky gasp falls from Keith’s lips and he clings to Shiro, grounding. Shiro hasn’t shaved in a day or two, his cheeks and chin scratching Keith’s skin in the best way. Keith’s hand slips from Shiro’s collarbone to the soft black hair in the middle of his chest, and he shoves Shiro back against the couch.

They pant in unison, staring at each other through the dimmed lighting. It’s late. They’re in the castle’s main lounge. Shiro looks exactly like one of Keith’s wet dreams and they really shouldn’t be doing this here.

“Fuck,” Keith whispers. He takes Shiro’s face in both of his hands and surges forward into a messy kiss.

He licks across the seam of Shiro’s lips, aching to be let back in for a deeper kiss, but Shiro doesn’t yield fast enough. Keith bites down at his bottom lip in protest and Shiro moans far too loudly. It’s a hard kiss full of desperation because Keith just wants him so _much._ Two short months of dating hasn’t exactly been the no-holds-barred sexual awakening Keith had secretly hoped for when he finally broke down and kissed Shiro during a late night training session. They’ve been waiting and waiting for a moment alone: something long enough to spend real time together that isn’t interrupted by alarm bells or someone demanding they come eat food goo for dinner, or whatever the hell else they’re needed for.

Now feels like it could be that moment—the castle hums quietly around them, everyone else retired to their rooms for the night, and Keith doesn’t want to slowly make out anymore, catching precious seconds in their lips pressed tight. They’ve been there many times and it’s wonderful, but Keith is finished pretending he’s happy that’s the only thing he’s done to Shiro with his mouth.

A hand pushes its way up Keith’s shirt, splaying over his side, and Keith moans in enthusiasm.

The kiss breaks on a harsh gasp and Keith takes his turn to bite at the underside of Shiro’s scratchy jaw. His skin is warm, the taste still unfamiliar enough to be exciting, and he sets his claim on Shiro.

“What—what’s gotten into you?” Shiro gasps, head dropping back to give Keith more room to work with.

“Put your hand on my ass.”

Shiro laughs in shock but obeys without question, and Keith rewards him with another hard kiss as Shiro’s hand squeezes in appreciation. He loves the feeling of Shiro’s mouth against his, the way their lips and tongues move, and the closeness it brings. He could kiss Shiro forever, but that doesn’t mean he wants to miss out on all the other fun things they could do too.

Maybe they shouldn’t do this here, but Keith knows a golden opportunity when he sees it.

Keith pulls his shirt over his head without flourish, tossing it down to the floor. He delights in the way Shiro’s eyes flash—Keith doesn’t think about his own body too much, knows he’s the kind of lean that looks too-skinny in the wrong light. He’s got muscle, though, and the hair covering his body is dark and soft. For the right kind of man, Keith likes to think he could be the perfect kind of attractive, and even if he doesn’t think about himself very much, he wants Shiro to. He wants Shiro to see him and lose his mind like Keith does for him.

“We shouldn’t do this here.” Shiro’s voice rumbles out of him so low that it makes something flip over deep in Keith’s gut. Despite the words, Shiro’s eyes don’t stop dragging over Keith’s chest with an avid hunger.

Keith doesn’t pretend to care that he technically agrees with Shiro. They _should_ go somewhere else, but the way Shiro looks at him makes it impossible to care.

“We locked the door. Everyone’s asleep. I don’t wanna wait anymore,” he says, honest and hungry. Shiro licks his lips.

“My room is close,” Shiro argues.

But Keith’s fallen for that before. Last time he got this close to _more_ was another late night—a sparring session that slid quickly from respectable to wildly inappropriate—but sometime in the space between the training room and Keith’s door, Shiro decided they were moving too fast. And that’s valid, if it’s what Shiro wants; Keith will absolutely respect his boundaries. But he has the feeling that Shiro isn’t so much drawing his own boundaries as he is creating new ones for Keith, lines in the sand that Keith did not come up with and does not feel compelled to abide by.

Keith is _horny._ If he wants sex and Shiro wants sex, they should make that happen. Shiro needs to stop acting like he’s taking advantage.

Right now, Shiro is kind of stupid with arousal. Keith isn’t letting him out of this room any time soon, not when it’s so much hotter to be making out in a semi-public location. This is exciting, and the couch just so happens to be the perfect shape for Keith to sit in Shiro’s lap. They’re both wearing the Altean version of sweatpants and Keith is already sweating from the relatively innocent contact they’ve had so far. What could be better than this?

“I like where we are right here,” Keith says softly, cocking his head to the side. When he pouts, Shiro gives him anything he wants. “Don’t you?”

Strained, Shiro says, “We really . . . we shouldn’t . . . .”

But even as Shiro’s voice trails off, his hands start moving up Keith’s thighs, smoothing over his pants until they reach the waistband and the naked skin beyond it. His patience is legendary, but he’s still just a man with dark eyes, a kiss-swollen mouth, and fraying threads of self-control. He wants this as much as Keith does.

Keith leans in slow, brushing the tip of his nose across Shiro’s cheekbone. He doesn’t let their lips touch but he stays right there, mouths hovering and sharing breath with their foreheads pressed together. Intimacy and heat crackles around them.

This is what victory tastes like.

“Show me what it feels like when you touch me,” Keith whispers. He can feel the catch of Shiro’s breath through his whole body. “I wanna be yours, Shiro.”

A shudder of a sigh breaks through Shiro’s body like waves on the shore. His fingers flex on skin in the no man’s land between Keith’s waist and hips, palms so broad and sturdy that Keith aches with his desire. Keith might have whipcord muscles and strength that comes from determination as much as anything else, but Shiro is the kind of broad that puts classical statues to shame. Every muscle of his body is taut and big, arms nearly as thick around as Keith’s head. When Keith touches his stomach he meets nothing but muscle, fingers skating through the thick line of hair that trails down his belly to the most exciting place Keith has never really gotten to see.

Shiro’s hips are cut like chiseled rocks. Keith wants to suffocate in his skin.

“You’re a bad influence, Keith.”

Keith smirks, unrepentant, and lifts his hands into the air, pulling his whole upper body into a luxurious stretch, all to put himself on display for Shiro’s gaze. He’s the worst influence, and Shiro wants him bad.

“C’mere, baby.”

Shiro pulls at Keith’s hips, drags him forward until Keith can’t get any closer. Keith’s arms drop to wrap around Shiro’s neck. Just like that, Shiro steals all the power of Keith’s clumsy seduction from him, fingertips sneaking down past the back of Keith’s pants to squeeze his ass unobstructed. Keith moans into it and he finds Shiro’s mouth in order to shut himself up.

Shiro kisses back happily, diving in with complete passion. His hands guide Keith’s hips into a gentle rocking motion that pushes his cock against Shiro just hard enough to be distracting.

The natural break in their kiss comes when Keith is most breathless. He's so hard already, just from closeness and the fact that it's _Shiro's_ lap he's sitting in, and as his hips roll in time with Shiro's urging, Keith whimpers. He bites his lip against the sound but Shiro pulls back to offer him a pleased, proud smile.

"You're beautiful," Shiro says. He says these things so easily. “Let me hear you.”

Keith kisses the corner of Shiro's mouth and doesn't say those three little words he aches to let spill forth. He leans in, pressing more kisses to the line of Shiro's jaw, up until Keith meets the fade-in of his buzzed-off hair. “I wanna make you feel good,” Keith whispers in his ear, a little hesitant and a lot excited. Shiro shivers, a sharp subtle movement that Keith wouldn’t feel if not for how close they are.

Keith knows, then, that it’s the last of Shiro’s walls crumbling into dust.

Like he's confessing a secret, Shiro says, “Me too.” He pets Keith’s skin like he’s holding a wild animal and Keith has never felt so taken care of. “I'm gonna make you feel so good, baby, I promise. I’ll take care of you."

Sweet. Shiro is sweet, so sweet that Keith thinks if he could ever get himself into the pet name thing he would call Shiro _sweetheart._ Honey, maybe, or sugar. Something just as soft and saccharine as Shiro himself in these delicate, tempering moments. Keith dreams privately of a future for them both, has had his hopes set even before long, lonely desert months, and sweetheart is perfect for that eventuality.

Shiro squeezes his ass to get his attention. “What are you thinking about?”

Sighing into the side of Shiro’s head, Keith drags his lips down the shell of Shiro’s ear and presses a kiss to the soft space underneath his earlobe. He refuses an answer to the question, but Shiro moans in encouragement anyway and Keith feels emboldened. “Wanna suck you off,” Keith murmurs. Shiro’s jaw clicks when he swallows and his hold on Keith tightens. _Good._

“You sure about that, baby?” Shiro whispers, turning his face into Keith’s neck so his lips brush the sensitive skin there. He offers a breath, a kiss, the touch so fleeting it tickles Keith’s skin like the wings of a butterfly.

Keith’s eyes close against the wave of arousal that hits him. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Wanna taste you.”

Shiro stops mouthing at Keith and leans their foreheads together. He strokes Keith’s cheek with his metal hand. “This is your first time. Isn’t it?”

Keith has never said so in quite as many words, but it’s been pretty clear that Shiro is the first person Keith has ever been with in any meaningful way. He’s the only person Keith has _wanted_ to be with, not Keith’s first kiss but the first time he’s ever locked lips for more than maybe five seconds total. The one good thing about being inexplicably trapped in a war in the middle of space is that it stops Keith from spending literally his whole life rolling around with Shiro, attached at the mouth. He loves kissing more than he ever thought possible, and it’s all because of Shiro.

Instead of answering, Keith dives deep into another kiss, trying to go as slow and dirty as he can. He hopes Shiro feels even just an ounce of the same desperation Keith does for him.

The kiss changes, though, falls out of Keith’s control. He’s the one sitting in Shiro’s lap and theoretically has all the leverage, but Shiro doesn’t let up. He holds Keith tightly in place with two hands on his face and he _devours_ Keith. Keith squirms, trying to get closer while all Shiro does is tilt his head and go for a deeper angle, kissing Keith with all of the heat and excitement and desire he can apparently muster.

It’s possible, then, that Keith isn’t the only one of them who’s been unable to stop imagining what it would be like.

Shiro kisses him for so long that Keith forgets his urgency, losing himself in the kiss, Shiro’s big hands holding him with unforgiving tenderness, and the wholly new sensation of shirtless kissing. Keith likes shirtless kissing a lot, a _whole_ lot, and he can’t wait until the day when they get to fall into bed together with all their clothes left behind. He wants to press his body against Shiro’s and twine their legs together. They’ll be closer to each other than they’ve ever been, and when Keith is done making out with Shiro he’ll kiss every single inch of his body—every scar, every freckle, every little place that makes Shiro who he is. He will worship Shiro because that’s what Shiro deserves.

“I want to blow you, too,” Shiro says. There’s no trace of shame in his voice or in the gaze Keith meets when his own eyes finally flutter open again, still dazed from that spitfire kiss.

 _“Oh.”_ Keith doesn’t mean to sound as surprised as he does.

Shiro is uncompromising in his eye contact. “You want that?” he asks.

Keith can only nod.

"I'll make you feel so good, baby," Shiro says. "I'll suck you off until you don't know what to do and I'll swallow everything you can give me, yeah?"

"Yeah," Keith answers, stunned. "You can . . . yeah."

Shiro laughs and kisses Keith, finally letting go of his face to smooth his hands down Keith's shoulders and biceps, all the way to take his hands and lace their fingers together. "Scoot up," he says, urging Keith off his lap to the empty expanse of couch beside them. "I'm gonna give you exactly what you want, baby, just you wait."

It takes Keith a moment to figure out what's wrong with that statement.

He's halfway through swinging a leg off Shiro's lap, hypnotized by the arousal Shiro inspires in him, but no. Nope. Shiro is really attractive when he’s bragging about his skill in bed—Keith won’t pretend he isn’t drawn to that, thank you, he likes a confident man—but it’s not Shiro’s turn.

"Wait," Keith says. Shiro stops immediately, his eyes going wide with concern as Keith uses their clasped hands to push Shiro back. "No, stop that, I said _I_ was going to suck _you_ off."

Shiro has the gall to pout at him. It’s very cute watching his thick, dark eyebrows and square solid jaw turn into such a childish expression, but Keith will not be that easily distracted. He’s better than that.

"But I want to blow you, too," Shiro says with a little frown.

"I called it," Keith argues. Which he did, he absolutely did, and besides, he was the one who told Shiro to get his shirt off and the one to take the plunge to peel his _own_ shirt off. Keith is leading the charge here. Shiro doesn't get to suddenly decide he's touching Keith's dick first when Keith has been angling at this for ages.

Shiro blinks at him for a moment, speechless, and then he lapses into a soft little laugh. "You called it, huh."

"Yup." Keith nods decisively.

Shiro studies him for a long minute, the gears clearly turning in his brain. A kiss lands on the very tip of Keith's nose, offhandedly soft and sweet.

"Maybe I could show you what to do," Shiro bargains, "if I get to go first."

That's . . . well. Keith likes the idea of that very, very much, and he kisses Shiro to show his appreciation. God, he loves Shiro's mouth, his pliant lips and the way he returns every single one of Keith's kisses with full enthusiasm. He can only imagine how attentive and good Shiro could be to Keith's dick, driving Keith wild from the very first touch.

It's distracting. But Keith has been waiting for so long to make Shiro feel good, and he isn't giving up this chance.

“I know what I’m doing,” Keith argues, his words spaced out between kisses. “I can—I’ll be so good, Shiro.”

“Mmm.” Shiro drags his teeth over Keith’s bottom lip. It’s so hot and Keith whimpers; he needs to remember that move for later so he can turn Shiro to jelly in return. “Thought you’d never done this before.”

Technically true, but that doesn’t mean Keith is anything less than dedicated to his craft. "Maybe I want you to teach me," Keith says, daring finally to show his hand. His voice dips low, trying to mimic the tone Shiro uses when he sounds the most seductive to Keith. "You're such a good teacher, Shiro."

Shiro's eyes turn black in an instant. Keith had hoped so much to strike a nerve with that, considering it's what he's fantasized about for—well, for a really long time, it seems. He's not going to explain it to Shiro in as many words, but Keith has seen exactly enough porn in his life to figure out how all of this is theoretically supposed to work. He needs a firm, guiding hand and a strong, confident voice to tell Keith how he's doing. Keith knows now that Shiro has big hands and a filthy mouth, knowledge gleaned from exactly three hot-as-fuck makeout sessions that nearly ended with Keith ruining his underwear, untouched but driven wild by Shiro's proximity and the way his voice sounds when he's promising to wreck Keith as soon as they can find the time to be alone.

They've found the time, but Keith isn’t backing down.

"You're sure, baby?" Shiro's voice is more of a desire-filled growl than an actual question. His fingers flex, grounding his touch on Shiro’s body.

Keith bites his lip and tries to look earnest as he nods. "Need you to teach me, Shiro. Show me how to touch you, everything you like. So I can be—so I can make it good for you. Please."

Shiro's eyes close briefly like he's steeling himself. "You're so fucking hot," he says, like Keith's touch is a thrill to be reckoned with. That's all Keith wants to be for him and he dips closer, kissing the underside of Shiro's jaw right next to where he left a dark mark on his skin earlier.

“Show me,” Keith begs again.

“Show you how to be good for me?” Shiro asks. “Is that what you were going to say?”

Keith shudders in his hold and tucks his nose into the vulnerable place below Shiro’s ear. “Maybe,” he whispers. The word feels coy in his mouth.

Shiro sighs and tilts his head to catch Keith's mouth for a kiss. With that as his distraction, Shiro tugs Keith's left hand to his chest.

“Touch me here, baby.”

Nipples, wow. Keith hasn't thought about that a whole lot, but the idea is very, very hot, so when Shiro splays his other hand all across Keith's lower back, he leans back into the touch to give himself room to work.

Shiro's chest is a work of art, scarred and thick and incredible. Keith brushes his fingers over Shiro's hair to gently roll Shiro's nipple between his fingers, careful and mildly uncertain because this isn't something that really gets him going personally, so it’s a part of his body he usually ignores. But Shiro's breath hitches on the first touch, a satisfied hum falling from his mouth, and Keith knows then that he can get used to this real quick.

"Like this?" Keith asks. He can't figure out if he should be looking at his fingers and Shiro's chest or the blissful expression on Shiro's face.

"Yes, that's so good," Shiro rasps. He pushes his chest into Keith's touch. "Touch the other one too, baby, there you go. Fuck."

Keith is transfixed. He doesn't know quite what he's doing but it's easy to read Shiro's reactions: he's vocal but not loud, hissing under his breath when he likes something and moaning quietly in the back of his throat when he _really_ likes something. A powerful feeling of pleasure rises in Keith—it comes from knowing that Shiro feels good and that Keith was the one to make it happen, which is a whole new world of feeling for Keith to experience. Shiro mutters encouragement and that's because of Keith. He's doing this. Shiro _likes_ Keith doing this.

Keith's dick throbs in his pants and it takes all his will power to not grind down into Shiro's lap. Not yet, at least, not until Shiro tells him it's time.

"Good," Shiro says, "so good, baby. Shit. Can you use your mouth?"

Absolutely Keith can use his mouth. He moves too fast, maybe, over-eager to see what other noises Shiro will make under his touch, but Shiro doesn't protest when Keith licks over Shiro's nipple with so much enthusiasm. He moans, louder than before, and Keith smiles at his success.

It's sort of a bummer that Keith never spent much time thinking about this. He should have, at least when he was thinking about Shiro.

But there's nothing to be done for it now. He switches sides without Shiro's prompting, his fingers toying with the nipple he just abandoned, and Shiro holds the back of Keith's head to his chest. Every moan is more unrestrained and excited and it makes Keith feel daring. He kisses his way to the center of Shiro's chest and scrapes his teeth over the skin there, and in the same motion, he drops his hand to Shiro's lap.

He's hard.

He's so, _so_ hard, and Keith hasn't even touched him there yet.

There's a moment of shock in which Keith lifts his gaze and meets Shiro looking down, his mouth hanging open.

Keith makes Shiro hard.

"That's all for you," Shiro promises, like he can read what Keith is thinking.

"Can I—"

Keith doesn't finish the sentence but Shiro nods anyway. With one last kiss to Shiro's nipple, Keith pulls back. He moves to slide down from Shiro's lap, to finally make his way to his rightful place on his knees between Shiro's legs, but Shiro urges him into a kiss first. Keith moans into it and locks his arms around Shiro's neck, angling always to be closer, and Shiro strokes his big hands up and down Keith's back. If this kiss is supposed to slow Keith's roll or calm him down in any way, it's definitely not working.

"If you want to stop," Shiro says, interrupting their kiss, "at any time, it's okay. Whatever you want to do. Remember, we don’t have to—”

Keith barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. "Why are you trying to talk me out of sucking your dick?" he demands, and then he kisses Shiro again for good measure. "I want it so bad, Shiro, you don't understand."

"I understand more than you think," Shiro says with a laugh. His hands fall to Keith's ass again, an easy touch that Keith loves more than he can explain. "I just—if it's too overwhelming or, or, if I'm too big—"

"You think I can't handle your dick?"

Shiro shrugs.

Keith's mouth drops open in outrage and he rears back. Within seconds, he's off Shiro's lap and shouldering his knees apart so he can hook his fingers in the waistband of Shiro's pants. He pulls at them without thinking, but he realizes after one solid yank that he can’t get Shiro’s pants down without some kind of help.

He glares at a sheepish Shiro until he lifts his hips enough for Keith to pull his pants off.

It’s very hard not to notice the way that movement shows off Shiro’s abs.

He slides Shiro’s pants and underwear down in one go, pulling them just past his mid-thighs. Keith is pretty sure that should be enough to give him some room to work with while keeping them both comfortable.

Keith gets his first good look at Shiro’s dick, finally, and he opens his mouth to tell Shiro off for trying to psyche Keith out about this.

But . . . .

There’s a slight issue with that.

 _Oh my god,_ Keith thinks. His indignation evaporates. He has to keep it together, stay cool—act like this is a totally normal thing. Keith isn’t at all exploding with joy and intimidation over the sight in front of him. He’s fine.

“Oh my god,” Keith’s stupid mouth says out loud, “your dick is huge.”

Shiro blinks down at him in shock.

If Keith doesn’t die instantly on the spot, he will forever be immune to all future embarrassment. Nothing can get to him now. Nothing can be as bad as the first time Keith saw Shiro’s dick hard right in front of his own eyes—so different from glimpses in communal showers and apparently indeed big enough to warrant Shiro warning him beforehand—and couldn’t stop himself from saying every dumb thing that came into his mind.

“I’m not, like, surprised,” Keith hurries to say, trying to do damage control. That sounds weird, though. “Or I am! Kind of. I mean I always thought—”

“You always thought,” Shiro says, blessedly interrupting Keith with warm skepticism in his voice. “You spent a lot of time thinking about that, Keith?”

Keith takes a sharp breath and, inexplicably, he blushes. He can’t look Shiro in the eye or in the dick right now and he mutters, “Maybe.” _Maybe_ sometimes almost every single night since he was seventeen and stupidly infatuated with how good Shiro looked in a half-buttoned officer’s jacket with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, wrench in hand. There’s a lot riding on this moment now, actually.

Shiro reaches down and strokes Keith’s cheek. “I meant it,” he says softly. “If you don’t want to do this anymore . . . .”

Bravely, Keith says, “Trust me, Shiro. That’s not going to be a problem.

This new possibility that Keith is going to have trouble sucking Shiro’s cock is not actually an issue at all. So what if Shiro’s dick is giant? Maybe it is a little intimidating, but maybe it makes Keith’s mouth water a little bit too.

It’s _so_ big.

Keith reaches out a tentative hand and wraps his fingers around the thick base of it. From the outset, it doesn’t feel any different from Keith’s own, barring the size difference, and it’s easy to stroke it gently a few times in consideration. He tries to get used to the weight of it in his hand.

Keith bites his lip and looks up at Shiro. “Tell me—tell me what to do.”

“Right,” says Shiro. He’s strangely breathless. “You can, uh, start with the head. Just a little, like, uh . . . .”

Shiro trails off, seemingly dumbstruck. Keith takes pity on him.

“Like this?” Keith leans in, still tentative despite his bravado, and he kisses the very tip of Shiro’s cock, holding it in place with one hand.

"Uh-huh," Shiro breathes out, visibly swallowing. His eyes are full of something as they look down at Keith—surprise, maybe, or arousal. "Just—just like that."

Keith holds Shiro's gaze as he presses his mouth to the tip of Shiro's cock again, less a kiss this time and more exploratory. Tentative, he presses his tongue forward as his lips close around the head.

Eager for more response, Keith cocks an eyebrow at him.

"That's great, baby," Shiro says in a rush. "It's always good to—ah, start there. Like that. Yeah.”

Keith hums a little at that. Already, Shiro feels huge in his mouth and Keith hasn’t even gotten past the head. He likes it, though, likes the weight of it and how it tastes like the rest of Shiro’s skin but also something more that Keith can’t name yet. He sucks softly, an experiment, and Shiro rewards him with a hitched little sigh, an unconscious noise that Keith knows he wants to hear more of—so he closes his eyes and does it again.

Yeah, Keith likes this a lot.

A hand lands gently on the top of Keith’s head. Warm fingers brush Keith’s bangs to the side of his forehead and tuck a wayward strand of hair behind his ear. It warms Keith up from the inside out to have Shiro touch him like that, so tender and sweet that it almost hurts somewhere deep inside him.

Warmed through to the core, Keith slides his mouth off Shiro’s cock and tilts his head into Shiro’s hand. “Think I’ve got that part down,” he murmurs, finally opening his eyes to look up at Shiro again. “What’s next?”

“Next . . . .” Shiro repeats the word with a little laugh, disbelieving. _“God._ You’re going to be the death of me, baby.”

Keith smirks and presses his lips just under the head of Shiro’s cock. Damn right he is.

“Come on, Shiro, I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says, letting a hint of a whine slip into his voice. “Please teach me how to suck your cock.”

Shiro closes his eyes. “Keith. Holy shit.”

“Shirooo.” Leaning his cheek against the head of Shiro’s cock, Keith sighs and pleads with his eyes. Sure, maybe somewhere in his head he has an idea of how this is supposed to go—he’s seen some stuff in his life, thanks—but that doesn’t tell him anything about what Shiro likes and wants. Keith wants to be the very best for _Shiro,_ not for some random porn star with a dick only half as nice as the one in front of Keith’s face right now.

“You really want this.” Shiro’s voice has an edge to it that wasn’t there before and Keith nods with enthusiasm. He really does, he wants this so much, and he tells Shiro that. “God, you’re so—fuck, Keith. If you don’t quit looking at me like that I swear I’m going to—”

Shiro cuts himself off just as he’s getting to the best part of that sentence.

“Swear you’re going to what?”

Shiro’s jaw works, clenched tight, and then he touches Keith’s cheek with his other hand, metal fingers grazing the line of it down to the dip between his chin and bottom lip. His thumb presses in there, pulling Keith’s mouth open into a little _o._

“It’s cute watching you tease me,” Shiro says. His voice dips low and dangerous, almost like the way he sounds giving commands on the battlefield. Keith is—well, he’s very hot for the way Shiro speaks when he knows he’s in charge. All Shiro’s hesitation from earlier is completely gone, leaving behind nothing but his desire. “But if you want me to teach you how to suck cock, you’re going to have to do a lot more than _teasing._ Are you ready for that, baby?”

Keith burns with arousal. “Yes, Shiro, _please,”_ he says, out of breath just hearing the filth coming from Shiro’s mouth. “I told you, I want to make you feel good, I—that’s all I want.”

“You will.” Shiro’s mouth curls up at the corner. “Don’t just pay attention to the head, now. You can’t forget about the rest of it, right, or what’s the point? Really use your mouth, baby, show me how excited you are to suck my cock.”

Keith moans and easily follows Shiro’s hand guiding his mouth down so he can lick one long line up Shiro’s cock. It feels even bigger like this, like it goes on forever, and Keith repeats the movement without prompting, sealing his lips over the head. His eyelids flutter shut so he can focus on the taste and feeling of it, savoring every new sensation. He moves his hand, tentative at first until Shiro praises him for it, and then Keith makes another eager noise around him and strokes Shiro with more confidence.

“Yeah, keep going,” Shiro says, his fingers curling in Keith’s hair. “Show me how desperate you are, baby, I wanna see how much you love it. Fuck, wait—here.”

Shiro pushes Keith’s hands out of the way so he can hold his cock himself and direct Keith’s mouth to drag along the side of it. Keith goes wherever Shiro puts him, laying wet kisses all the way down the side until he meets the base of Shiro’s cock. There, Shiro pauses, and Keith hums with encouragement.

“That’s it, you’ve got it,” Shiro says when Keith mouths lower, just for a moment, just to try it. “Oh, good, yeah, fuck. Don’t—don’t be afraid to get messy.”

Messy is one word for it. Keith’s whole mouth is wet from his own spit and from the wetness that drools from the head of Shiro’s cock, addictive to taste. Shiro lets go of his hair, giving him free reign again, and Keith takes full advantage of that. He follows the trail of Shiro’s happy noises wherever they lead him, experimenting with how hard and fast he strokes Shiro's dick, how slowly he drags his tongue up Shiro's cock from base to tip, how sweetly he mouths at the head. As far as Keith can tell, Shiro enjoys all of it, but he goes particularly wild when Keith trails soft, sucking kisses up the side just like how he would at Shiro's neck. Personally, Keith likes it best when his lips stretch over the head, taunting him with what it's going to be like to swallow Shiro's whole cock down.

For now, though, Keith only wants to move as fast as Shiro wants him to move. He sighs with satisfaction when he gets another taste of Shiro leaking at the tip, and moans in response to each of Shiro's loudest noises. Keith loves this already—he would be happy to spend the rest of his life kneeling right here between the thick muscles of Shiro’s thighs, sucking Shiro’s dick until both his jaw and his knees ache from it—but he also wants _more._

Keith takes a moment's rest, laying his cheek on Shiro's thigh while he keeps up the movement of his hand with slow, steady strokes. He looks up at Shiro's burning eyes and his half open mouth, watching Keith, mesmerized. Keith licks his bottom lip, slow.

"Fuck, Keith," Shiro whispers, trailing his hand over Keith's cheek. His fingertips brush Keith's lips, following the path his tongue just took.

Curious, Keith pushes his tongue out to lick at them, and Shiro sighs hard through his nose. His fingers nudge forward, pushing two just inside Keith’s mouth, and Keith closes his lips around them, treating them just like he did the head of Shiro’s cock. The comparison doesn’t seem to be lost on Shiro, either, and he curses again as he draws his fingers back.

Shiro is gracious enough to wipe his fingers off on the pants still around his thighs before he touches Keith’s face with them. “Where’d you pick that trick up from?” he asks.

Keith shrugs. “No where.” He turns his face enough that he can press a dry kiss to the nearest part of Shiro’s hand. “I wanted to.”

“Yeah? Is there anything else you wanted?”

That dark edge is back in his voice, a flinted edge that sparks against Keith. It’s pure arousal.

Slowly, Keith rights his head, sitting up and getting ready for what Shiro wants next. He shifts his body in tiny increments to alleviate some of the discomfort in his kneeling position, but mostly he doesn’t even notice it. He’s transfixed on Shiro and wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Thought you were teaching me,” Keith says, a kernel of defiance threading his words with challenge.

Shiro’s mouth twists up at the corner, a dirty smile. "You wanna learn something else?"

It takes a lot for Keith to stop himself from looking or sounding too eager. He answers, "Anything you wanna teach me."

"You're so good for me, baby." Shiro sighs and he sits back. Keith hadn’t realized how close Shiro was, but now the distance is striking, just like the small, pleased smile of triumph on Shiro’s face. His reservations in the beginning have given way to this indescribably hot man guiding Keith through his first blowjob with a filthy twist to his words and a gentle hand, and Keith could not be more turned on right now if he tried.

Shiro says, "C'mere, sweetheart. Open your mouth."

Scratch that. Keith is now even more turned on then he’s ever been in his life.

Keith obeys, easy as anything even as that nickname burns a hole through his heart, and Shiro guides him to the head of his cock, pushing it through Keith's lips. He doesn't stop this time, though, nudging Keith down until his whole mouth is full and split open wide, a whine slipping out of him without permission. His eyelids flutter as Shiro helps him fall into a slow motion, bobbing his head up and down without letting Shiro’s cock completely leave his mouth.

"That's it," Shiro gasps and, oh, he sounds affected more than ever. "Move your hand too, it's—yeah, baby, good job. So—fuck—so good." He isn’t very good at keeping up the whole commanding teacher persona for very long, but Keith is partial to the fact that Shiro can’t even hold it together right now because of what Keith is doing to him. That’s a power trip all on its own.

Keith twists his hand on the upstroke, and that wrings a whole new kind of noise from Shiro's throat.

"Fuck, you're amazing at this," Shiro hisses.

A hand lands in Keith's hair again, grounding him but not forcing anything, and Keith can't help but moan at the thought of Shiro pushing his head down, slowly nudging his cock deeper down Keith’s throat. He could take it, Keith thinks—this is a lot but it isn't a challenge, not yet.

Keith releases Shiro's cock with a gasp. He looks up at Shiro and grins cheekily at the wonder and excitement staring down at him.

"This is fun," Keith announces. Shiro only laughs, any other response he might have had choked out of him by Keith descending on his cock again.

"C-careful, baby," Shiro cautions, but Keith is hardly listening. He wants more and now he's going to get it, because every fraction of an inch that he manages to swallow of Shiro's thick cock feels like a point in Keith's favor and he wants _all_ of the points. Sucking Shiro’s cock, being told how good he is, the hands touching his hair and his face—nothing compares to it. There’s no adrenaline rush that compares, no post-battle onslaught of euphoria that actually clouds Keith’s head with joy quite like this. Shiro’s attention is addictive. Keith has plans to blow Shiro’s mind, but first he has to nail this learning curve.

There’s just so much of Shiro’s cock to take in; figuring out the angle is the hardest part. Keith chokes exactly once while trying to figure out his plan of attack. Shiro coos at him, because of course he does, and he strokes his fingers through Keith's hair while breathlessly telling him it's okay, he doesn't have to take so much, just take it slow.

But that's a problem. Keith doesn't _want_ to take it slow. He's been waiting so long for this moment, to show Shiro how much he means to Keith and how much Keith wants to take care of him, and now that it's here, he doesn't see the point in slowing down. He likes this—likes what it's doing to Shiro and the sheer embodiedness of it all. As if everything Keith feels about Shiro can actually be summed up in this movement and action, in giving himself over to Shiro in a way that he never would with anyone else.

Keith loves him so much. It's way, way too soon to say that out loud, but that doesn't make it any less true.

Ever determined, Keith presses forward, working his mouth over Shiro until it’s an easy slide. "Oh, that's so good, baby." Shiro’s breath comes harder with every slide of Keith's lips down his cock, every brush of Keith's hands on his thighs.

Keith pulls off Shiro's cock with a gasp and presses his wet, messy mouth to the side of it again while he catches his breath. He trails kisses down to the base and back up again, lost in the feeling, and Shiro scratches his nails against Keith's head in approval. Keith could purr from how good it feels, how much it turns him on feeling Shiro's body flex in unconscious motion, all from what Keith is doing to him.

Shiro asks, "How you doing, baby?"

"Great." Keith smiles at Shiro with all his teeth and wipes the mess he’s made off his chin with one hand. "I think I'm ready."

Shiro's eyebrows raise and he laughs in confusion. "Ready for what?"

Keith looks down at Shiro's cock, shining with Keith's spit, and licks his lips. "Ready to try the next thing. Deepthroating, right?"

Shiro starts coughing so loudly that Keith’s head snaps up in concern. Covering his mouth with one hand, Shiro’s eyes are wide above it, his body jumping in time with every cough. Alarmed, Keith stands up on his knees to get closer. He lays a hand on Shiro’s chest and asks, “Shiro? What’s wrong?”

Shiro’s breathing peters out to wheezing breaths, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. He shakes his head at Keith. “I’m—I’m good,” he rasps. Keith frowns and runs his hand up Shiro’s skin to brush his jaw. “No, it’s—fine, I’m fine.” Shiro takes a deep breath. "I don't think—Keith, I mean, deepthroating that's—wow.” A long shuddering sigh leaves Shiro’s body and he shakes his head a little, dislodging Keith’s touch. “That's really, uh, advanced? And I'm not like—I mean, generally, I'm not really sized for that kind of thing."

Frowning, Keith sits back on his heels and wraps a hand around the base of Shiro's cock. He’s not convinced that Shiro is fine, but at least his breathing returned to normal "I haven't had any issues so far," he argues. "You're supposed to teach me, Shiro. You promised."

"I don't think I realized you meant, uh, _that_ ," Shiro says and clears his throat a final time. He leans closer to Keith, almost within kissing distance, which is very tempting. "You know you don't have to do everything, right, Keith? This isn't like—you're not proving yourself to me. It's your first time, I just—I just want it to be good for you. Something you can look back on and smile about."

Keith beams, pleased, and he leans up for a long kiss, both of their lips parted for a soft, slow thing. Shiro welcomes it, humming into the kiss and tilting his head for the perfect angle to kiss Keith back. He has this way of making Keith feel like his heart pounds in a rhythm just for the two of them, the only people left in the world when Keith sets his eyes on Shiro. It's sweet and gentle and good and Keith loves kissing, loves every moment of it, but he absolutely wants to make Shiro feel better than anyone else ever has. And the final step in that process is deepthroating.

"You're amazing, Shiro," Keith whispers against Shiro's lips when they finally slow to a halt.

"Baby," Shiro says, and he cups Keith's cheek and strokes his thumb down the bridge of his nose. "You're so good to me. Come up here, let me kiss you and make you feel good."

Keith pulls back finally. He looks Shiro right in the eyes and gives him a wicked, deadly grin. "Soon," he promises, "but I'm not done here."

"Keith—oh _fuck."_

Keith is too quick for Shiro to keep protesting for long. He dives back down to Shiro’s lap, lips finding the head of Shiro’s cock and sinking down, down, moaning as it fills his mouth again. Keith’s experience might be limited, but he’s completely certain that no one’s dick was made to be as perfect as Shiro’s, and that means it deserves every bit of Keith’s attention. He’s going to put this whole thing in his mouth no matter what, and Shiro’s just going to have to learn how to live with that. He doesn’t know how much is left to go, just knows his mouth already feels so full. Keith is making an admirable effort for someone who just got his mouth on a dick for the first time like ten minutes ago, but that isn’t _enough._ That's just how Shiro makes him feel—like Keith can do anything he wants, regardless of what common sense might say.

He breathes through his nose and grips Shiro's thighs tight, the soft hair underneath his palms strangely grounding when the thick, hard muscle makes him feel slightly dizzy with arousal. God, would it be too much to stick a hand down his pants right now? He could come from all of this right here, he really could, just the weight of Shiro's cock on his tongue and the way Shiro sounds above him, his pleasure clear in his unrestrained noises. Shiro is loud in bed, it turns out, and Keith loves that a whole lot.

“Baby, you don’t—oh, jeez, okay, fuck.” Shiro’s hand lands back on top of Keith’s head, his fingers threading through Keith’s hair. Keith sort of wishes he’d start pulling on it, but even Keith knows that’s maybe a little advanced for him. One day.

Keith pulls off to gasp for breath, licks down all the way and over Shiro’s balls and then up to the tip again. “I’m doing alright?” he asks.

“Keith, sweetheart,” Shiro says faintly, “you’re _incredible.”_

He flushes with Shiro’s praise; it warms him all the way down to his toes. “I’m gonna try now, okay?”

“Keith, baby, you don’t have to—I mean, it’s so, _so_ good already, trust me, I don’t need—”

Keith ignores him. Sure, obviously, Shiro doesn’t _need_ to find out if Keith can actually take him all the way, but Keith does. Keith pushes his head down, doing his best to open up and shutting Shiro up into a stuttering, wordless mess in the process. It feels—weird, is the only way to describe it. His whole world narrows down just to this, even losing track of what Shiro is doing above him, if he's moaning or crying or telling Keith to calm down again or whatever. Keith's eyes fall closed and when his nose hits the coarse hair curled around the base of Shiro's cock, he wants to shout with excitement.

Other things come back into sharp focus then: Shiro's thighs trembling underneath his touch, the hand in his hair, the tapping of metal fingers on his shoulder. Keith is so full. He’s _powerful._

“Oh my god,” Shiro whispers brokenly. Keith hears it clear as day. “Do—do you just not have a gag reflex?”

Keith tries so hard not to laugh but he has to pull off Shiro’s cock to keep from choking or doing something unfortunate with his teeth. He licks his lips as he looks up at Shiro, one hand idly stroking up and down Shiro’s cock. “Nope,” he says. “Never had an issue.”

Shiro chokes on air.

Keith takes the interlude as a chance to dive back down on Shiro’s cock. Shiro’s legs tremble on either side of him as Keith sucks hard enough that his lips _pop_ when they slide off. He rubs his messy cheek down the side, uncaring of how filthy it makes him. He licks around the base of Shiro’s cock, sucks softly at his balls, hand jerking the length above. Keith could get used to this.

Shiro’s moans grow more wild and unrestrained, louder with every passing second until Keith wonders to himself if he should remind him they’re technically in public. But it’s so _hot_ hearing him let go, knowing it’s because Keith is taking Shiro so deep that he can’t even taste his cock anymore. There’s something paralyzingly good about taking Shiro’s entire cock and feeling Shiro’s hand tighten reflexively in Keith’s hair. He doesn’t pull or hold Keith down, but he could, and that’s enough to make Keith moan loudly with Shiro buried in his throat.

“Fuck, _fuck,”_ Shiro says through clenched teeth. “Keith, fuck, I’m going to—”

Keith’s cock throbs in his pants, begging for attention, but Keith doesn’t have it in himself to multitask.

He pulls back and drops his mouth to the base again, fucking himself on Shiro’s cock while Shiro falls apart above him. Keith braces himself with a hand on Shiro’s stomach, the muscles flexing under his touch as Shiro struggles to keep his hips from bucking upwards.

And isn’t that a beautiful thought, Shiro fucking his face? God, there are so many more things Keith still has to try.

Keith sucks hard, deepthroats Shiro _again_ because it turns out he’s really good at that, and Shiro responds by pushing at his shoulder, trying to get him to pull back. “Keith—Keith, shit, I’m seriously going to—baby, come on. Baby, I can’t come in your mouth, I—hahhh—”

God, Shiro sounds good when he’s falling apart.

 _Can’t come in my mouth,_ Keith thinks derisively as his lips meet the base of Shiro’s cock again. He swallows, throat working around Shiro, and Shiro yelps in response. _Give it to me, give me everything, I love you and I want it._

Shiro tries one last time to urge Keith off his cock, but there’s nothing he can do without fisting his big metal hand in Keith’s hair and hauling him off that way. Keith doesn’t believe in giving up, not when it comes to Shiro, and he fights back against every touch to keep his mouth right where it is.

He really, truly wants this. His dick, harder than it’s ever been, is living proof of that.

At the very last second Shiro loses himself. The metal hand pushing at Keith’s shoulder wraps around the back of his neck and his other hand curls its fingers in Keith’s hair. For a moment, just a single blissful, exciting moment, Keith is held fast, choking down on Shiro’s cock while Shiro comes hard with a loud, bitten-off groan, his upper body curling forward over Keith.

It’s overwhelming.

Keith hauls himself back with a gasp, fighting against Shiro’s hold. He has the presence of mind to wrap his hand around Shiro’s cock and stroke him through his orgasm and a stripe of come hits Keith’s cheek, then over his mouth. Moaning, Keith licks his lips on instinct—the taste barely registers in the rush of everything that’s happening. Shiro’s head flops against the back of the couch, face turned up to the ceiling and chest heaving hard.

Experimenting, Keith licks over the head of Shiro’s cock, garnering another soft groan as Shiro shakes through the last of his orgasm. He sucks softly, cleaning the last bit of come from him, waiting patiently until Shiro gathers the presence of mind to lift his head back up and look down at Keith.

“Hi,” Keith says, smug. He _did that._ Fuck yeah.

“Shit,” Shiro says, eyes filling with worry, which is not the reaction Keith was expecting or hoping for. “Shit, Keith, baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—to force you down like that.”

He sounds so genuinely aggrieved that it takes Keith a moment to figure out what he’s referring to, considering he doesn’t think it’s anything to apologize for. Keith snorts and takes the opportunity get off his aching knees and crawl back into Shiro’s lap, taking his face in both hands and kissing him hard, heedless of the mess of come and spit all over his mouth and cheeks.

Shiro makes a noise of surprise but pulls Keith’s body in tight. He kisses Keith back with a sloppy enthusiasm that says a lot about how off-kilter he is in his post-orgasmic haze.

Keith ends the kiss by biting Shiro’s bottom lip. “Don’t apologize. I loved that,” he says honestly, voice scratching out of his throat in an oddly satisfying way. Well-used, he thinks.

He doesn’t say, _I love you,_ but he projects the thought into the tiny space between them.

“Oh,” Shiro says, sounding genuinely surprised.

“And it made me think that you should fuck my mouth sometime,” Keith says. Honest communication is important.

Shiro doesn’t break off into a coughing fit this time. Instead, he closes his eyes weakly and wraps his arms around Keith’s waist, pulling him in for a tight hug and burying his face in the crook of Keith’s shoulder. “I can’t believe you,” he whispers.

Keith smiles to himself and hugs Shiro back. He’s still hard as hell, but right now his dick is pressed right up against Shiro’s hard abs, so it’s not at all a bad position to be in. He kisses the side of Shiro’s head and scratches his nails gently through the back of Shiro’s short hair.

“We haven’t even been on a date,” Shiro mutters into his skin.

“‘S hard to date in space,” Keith says.

Shiro pulls back to look at Keith, his hands still holding Keith’s waist. His huge, strong hands that Keith would very much like to have wrapped around his dick right now.

Keith gives into his burning desire and puts a hand on Shiro’s abs in return, centering his palm over the defined line down the middle of his stomach. He’s grateful every day that Shiro has such dark-colored hair.

“I’m going to take you on a date,” Shiro swears. Sweetheart. “A real one, just the two of us.” He kisses Keith in a way that would be chaste in a context with less nudity. “But first, I’m going to carry you back to my quarters and suck your dick until you cry from how good it feels. Got it?”

Keith hopes Shiro is serious about the carrying because his knees are weak from hearing the commanding tone in his voice.

“That—that works,” he says hoarsely. “Yeah. That’s good with me.”

Shiro smiles, devilish and handsome, and he leans down to bite a long kiss to the side of Keith’s neck. It burns right through Keith’s body to his dick, and he whimpers, hips jerking up into Shiro’s abs. “Yeah, there we go, baby,” Shiro growls. “C’mon, let’s go. I’m going to rock your fucking world.”

And . . . well, and he does.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! let me know what you thought! :D
> 
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